Halo: Savages
by Felix Hawthorne
Summary: After the end of the Covenant-Human war, one Elite is set to rise in the ranks of the Arbiter's army. But when he is captured by a familiar foe, a lifetime of pain awaits him. Before it ends, it will change him into something else, and maybe not for the better... All involving OCs, rated M for graphic violence among other things. Currently on hiatus.
1. Chapter 1: Beginning of the End

_"There is no higher honor in these times than to be under the command of the Arbiter himself. Do you understand that?" the Elite in the golden armor asked._

_"Of course," said the other Elite, sporting white armor. "If not for him, we would not be here discussing this matter. I consider it a privilege, and something that would bring honor to my father. When does he wish for me to depart?"_

_"After I dismiss you. There have been rumors that he's short of a few men, and after hearing his message, it's safe to say he confirmed them."_

_"Will anyone be coming with me?"_

_"No. Only you. You will depart from here to his fortress. It will take two days journey on foot. We do not want this to be a large scale operation, it is not necessary. Anything else?"_

_"Tell my father about this," he smirked._

The door opened as the transferred Elite walked out of the command room. Every step he took was with a sense of pride and a high spirit. After all, he had every reason to boast about this. The Arbiter wanted _him_ under his wing? How could he not be grateful and take it to heart?

It wasn't just any Elite he had chosen for this assignment. No, he picked the Elite with the name of Sesa Sarkam.

Sesa had been fighting in the war for two years, roughly late to the party, but he had only recently met the required age to join the war. When he entered the ranks of the Covenant, he made sure there was no reason for him to be kicked out.

He had been one of the Elites that stormed the planet of Reach, burning down cities and shooting any filthy human he could see. One of them might have even been a Spartan, now that he could reflect on it. It was just another enemy to him at the time.

But his career did not come to a screeching halt when the Great Schism forced him to work alongside humans. It took time before he was up to speed, but he eventually realized the tactics of the Brutes and became the leader of his unit, with all but one of his men surviving to see the end of the war.

His armor changed while he was climbing the ranks, and his white armor showed that he was one of the best of the best. He was still young for a soldier and had room to improve, maybe he could one day be second in command to the Arbiter himself...

But that day hadn't arrived yet. He had a job to do.

The fortress was typical of the Covenant buildings up until the Schism: Sleek, cool, and filled to the brim with the latest technology. The walls were dark blue and there were plenty of communication stations, with one or two Elites at each one. Most of them were lower in rank than Sesa, one fact he loved being reminded whenever they would stop and salute him.

There were a few hundred brothers and a dozen or so sisters in the facility, and he saw one with every turn he took around the place. It wasn't so densely populated that one could barely breathe, but it had enough men that there was always something to do.

He went through several floors, elevators, and salutes from his peers before he finally found himself at the armory. All the latest weaponry were here, painted in green rather than the purple color of the Covenant. Variants of the Mark of Shame replaced the Covenant logo, something to remind them where their new loyalties laid.

To Sesa, this was like being a kid in a candy shop. Everything was present for him to try, and he wasn't sure where to begin. He came to the rack where the plasma launcher rested and lifted it up with his hands, slinging it over his shoulder to get a feel for it.

Talk about power. Even Hunters could barely handle a direct shot or a hit to the head from this. But it was too bulky, and he was going to be carrying whatever he brought to a two day walk. This was going to require lighter armor to make it bearable.

Next came the energy sword. It was shut off and the handle was all that remained. He removed it from its own rack, and flicked it on. How long had it been since he got to see the blade of one of these? Far too long, and it felt just as powerful as he remembered when he buried it deep within the chest of a Brute Chieftain.

This was coming with him. One down, another to go.

But he stopped when he could hear another Elite coming in with him. The visitor leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, clad in red armor.

"I heard the news," he stated without emotion.

"Zuka. I was not aware you were assigned to this fortress," he said.

"I was transferred here yesterday. But it's been too long since we've last met, brother."

"Indeed. It's been hard to believe it's been a year since we were killing Brutes on Earth."

They came forward and hugged one another, just as motivated from a deep friendship as much as it was out of respect. Zuka pulled away and examined Sesa's armor.

"You remind me of Rtas Vadum in that armor," he commented.

"I would have thought you would have been promoted a long time ago. You haven't changed one bit."

"It doesn't matter now. You must feel grand now that you're part of the Arbiter's elite guard."

Sesa returned to the job of choosing his toys, pulling out the plasma rifle. "You have more insight than your superiors give you credit for."

"Picking your weapons, I see. The forest is not that treacherous, unless you consider a little bunny to be the worst thing you've seen all day."

Sesa laughed at that. "It would be. Not much has happened for the last few months. But I must be ready for anything that's in that forest. It would be wise to prepare for the worst, wouldn't you say?"

Zuka said nothing, but his nod said everything on his mind. He was a little disappointed that the reunion was cut short, but he was happy to see his friend take his career to new heights.

"Take care, brother. They could always use your humor when they're bored," said Sesa.

"With pleasure, Sarkam."

Sesa put the rifle on his back and the sword's hilt on his hip, and marched out of the armory with a sense of grace. Zuka watched on with a sense of admiration, up until the doors shut behind his friend.

The Elite walked through more miles of corridors and elevators, since most of the base was underground. It was designed to fool the enemy into thinking it was only three stories tall when it had a total of ten, with seven additional floors underneath the ground.

There was one elevator he needed to go inside by then. The elevator was the only one that led outside from the "first" floor, and he came in and pressed the button to the exit.

He felt melancholy when the elevator ascended up the fortress, lights from each floor trickling its blue glow inside to reflect off the white armor. This was the beginning of a new chapter in his life, and he intended to make sure it was the best he could make it.

The elevator beeped with each climbed floor, until it came to a stop with the final buzz. The doors opened for Sesa, and the new area was a complete contrast from the clinical and hand made walls he had grown accustomed to.

They gave way to the sight of trees and dirt, with the sound of birds chirping giving the soundtrack to the serene forest. The trees were so tall and numerous that it was hard to see the sky past their branches and leaves, and the ground was almost entirely consisting of dirt, though there were patches of grass and bushes to make sure you knew this wasn't a desert in the making.

Wildlife ran rampant around the forest, from the birds to the deer. Being here made one feel as one with nature herself. There was no other departure from the fortress than this, and Sesa loved it.

He took a few steps out of the elevator, and he heard the doors close behind him. His arms stretched out into the sky and he took a deep breath of fresh air. It was refreshing to feel that in his lungs again, and he felt more alive than he had in a while. The dirt felt amazing on his hooves, even with his armor blocking some of it out of the way. He regretted how he chose not to take hikes through it whenever he had a day off, this was amazing as it was.

The forest went for miles and miles, and only stopped a few hundred meters away from the Arbiter's fortress. So this would be all he would see for most of his trek.

He took more and more steps through the area, absorbing the atmosphere as he did so. He kept gazing up to the sky above, or what little he could see through the trees. He could occasionally get a glimpse of its blue color past the branches, and the golden shade suggested that the day was in its morning hours.

His rifle rested soundly on his hands, just in case something popped up. The better prepared he was, the better he would handle any threat that came his way.

However, he did not encounter much of anything for the first three hours of the journey. It was astonishingly quiet around these woods, and the only thing that surprised Sesa was that the trees just wouldn't stop coming. Hell, save for the occasional deer running through the woods, he couldn't see any animal at all.

Fighting a bunny was beginning to sound exciting.

Nevertheless, save for the lack of excitement, it was a relaxing walk for him. The stretch of dirt on his hooves made him calm and collected, and he even put the rifle away on his back after a while. It was like the way to glory was nothing more than a cruise line, where he could get away with a lazy demeanor.

But that was a mistake that would cost him. Regardless of whenever or not he could see it, something or someone was watching him from the trees. He glared at the Elite down below his feet, and the being growled at his prey. His claws dug deep within the bark, and the branch was somehow supporting his massive weight, as he was even heavier than Sesa.

He was not the only one watching Sesa, either. Three other beasts were waiting with him in the trees. They hid among the foliage, but their behavior made it clear that they hated this role.

"Must we wait for so long?" one grumbled in a distinctively inhuman voice. "He's vulnerable and alone. He might get a shot on us, but our numbers and strength would overwhelm him easily!"

"Yes, what's the point of of this waiting?" another openly questioned. "He's a few miles away from the nearest fortress. Nobody would know what happened here!"

The leader snarled at the rebellion, and ran over and grasped the first one on the neck. The one who spoke out so willingly was now gasping for air from the sheer power of the leader's grasp.

"Do you not understand anything?" he barked. "This is one of the highest ranking Elites in the Arbiter's force. He wouldn't get one shot at us, he would have five at the least, and we would all be safer if _you_ died from his blade. Maybe you won't have us all killed with your 'leadership' then!"

He let go of the neck, and the partner gasped for air and almost lost his balance on the branch.

"We must attack when he's more vulnerable than this. That might be when he's sleeping, it might be when he's hunting for food, but this is not the moment. We wait for now, time is on our side."

Once the one put back in his place had recovered, they jumped and swung from branch to bark, keeping up with the pace that Sesa had established.

But the Elite never had the slightest idea that he was being watched. The time would come where he would eternally regret not suspecting a thing, but his mind was at ease even at that point. He continued to go through the forest at a brisk walk, and he was starting to think about hunting for his lunch.

There were no creatures in sight for miles, disappointingly. It was getting pointless to keep searching around these parts, and he assumed that this area did not have much to feature for wildlife. Perhaps he should have brought something with him when he grew hungry, but he wanted to travel as lightly as possible.

The time came where he wanted to stop and take a breather from all that walking, and he soon encountered a section of the woods that had fewer trees than the rest, allowing one to finally see the ceiling above their heads.

A bunch of bushes dotted across the wide open plain, but the biggest feature of the area was a stream that cut across the forest like a knife. It was deep within the ground, and its floor consisted of smooth, round rocks.

The water was only deep enough to reach to an Elite's shoulders, but it could submerge a human if he took a dip inside.

He realized how thirsty and sore the walk had made him, and he decided to spend half an hour to rest by the stream. Still feeling the false sense that he was alone and safe, he put the rifle and the handle to the energy sword down by the edge of the river bend.

Meanwhile, the creatures steadily came down from the trees, in a way that would not make any noise whatsoever. They crouched their bodies and sneaked over to the bushes, where the leaves would cover any trace of their fur.

The youngest of the group eyed Sesa's movements second by second, and had to contain himself when he saw the Elite bend down on his knees to lap water in his mandibles.

"What about now?" he brought up. "He is unarmed and off guard. There would be no way for him to stop us now!"

"Be quiet," the leader whispered. "The moment is almost at hand. I know what he's going to do next, and you must trust me when I say there's a bigger opportunity waiting for us."

The other two beasts looked at each other in confusion. They did not have any clue what he meant by that, but given that disobeying his orders usually meant a snapped neck, they did what they were told.

Sesa splashed more and more water into his mouth. He was so thirsty that it was a relief to drink up, but he needed more. So he kept drinking for a few minutes, until his body had had enough.

Then he felt the need to take a swim, if even for a few moments. He looked all over the forest around him, making sure he was alone before he acted. If there was a deer he could eat, the swim could wait a few minutes. But he saw nothing of note, so he came off his knees and stood on his hooves again.

He put his right foot in the water and shivered from the touch. It was cold, but it wasn't something he would find. So he jumped inside without hesitating, splashing water everywhere. The grass behind him suddenly found itself soaked from the sheer amount of water it received.

By the Arbiter, this was exactly what his body desired. His points of tension were forced to be relieved at the cold temperature of the stream. Sesa's head came back above the surface, and he couldn't have felt any better.

The creatures in the bushes grew all the more rowdy from seeing that, and they turned to the leader with bloodlust in their eyes. The leader rose to his feet, and lifted up his hand as a signal.

"Now you have my blessing to capture him. Bring the dog to me alive."

The others roared in relief, and charged out of their cover at full steam to the Elite.

Before Sesa could fully submerge himself again, he was shocked when he saw three creatures come out of nowhere and sprinted to him. He immediately perceived them to be three Brutes, and his warrior instincts kicked in.

How could he have left himself unarmed? It did not matter if he could arm himself, his energy sword was still there for him to use. He swam as fast as he could through the stream, aiming for the sword's handle.

The Brutes all carried a plasma rifle in their right hands, but they seemed to be looking for a fistfight rather than a gunfight. Their free hands extended their claws for Sesa, and they looked ready to tear him in half.

But Sesa managed to get out of the stream in time, and went to grab his handle. But the next thing he knew, he felt a sharp pain in his head when one of the apes punched him right on the top of his face. He staggered from the shot, and the other Brute swatted the sword out of his hand with his claws. The handle flew to the water, hidden from view underneath the current.

He still had his rifle to use, though. But the Brute that drew the first blow followed it up with a strong kick to the chest, and Sesa fell hard onto his back. He saw his rifle being pointed right at him by the other ape.

They had captured Sesa Sarkam, and they knew it. He had no choice but to lay down, with four guns pointed at him now. His only other option was to punch his way out of there, but even he knew he would lose in that scenario.

He had a chance to finally see the state they were in. They did not have the armor that the Prophets had given them after the Schism, but they were not without clothes either. They had straps for other guns to be holstered inside, and they wore something that looked like boxers around their crotch areas. But their chest and legs were completely exposed. Good points for a sword attack, if he had a sword...

One Brute prepared to stomp his head in, raising a foot and bringing it over him. But the creature stopped when he saw another Brute come out of his hiding spot, a Gravity Hammer resting on his right shoulder.

"I thought I told you to capture him alive."

The offender growled in disappointment, and stomped the ground near Sesa's head. The Elite's skin rumbled from the force of the impact.

He looked up at the commander and estimated that this was the Chieftain of the pack. This one had a few more straps on his chest, and he carried his hammer with a sense of pride that only men like Sesa could match.

There was no telling what the nature of this attack was. They were on the Elites' home planet after all. If they were trying to get revenge for the death of the Prophet of Truth, there were better methods to pick than capturing one Elite out of the blue.

The chieftain said nothing, only studying his prisoner from far away. Eventually, he came up with the rest of the pack and suddenly seemed just as ready to kill Sesa as the other Brute.

"Bring him to his feet, but hold him in place so he does not escape," he commanded.

Two of his brothers grabbed Sesa's arms and tried to lift him up, but he brushed them away and got on his own feet. His gaze met the chieftain's, but the Brutes still held him in place by his arms.

"Did the defeat of the Prophets not sting enough?" Sesa snapped. "Is that why you have come here for seconds?"

The chieftain laughed. "I've heard a lot about you, Sarkam. And the stories about your arrogance are true, you are showing that. But enough about your reputation. Have you figured out why we have come here and captured you as we have?"

Sesa opened his mandibles to say something, but no words came out. Everything the Chieftain said served to confuse him further about his motivations. He answered with silence, the only thing that made sense.

"As I assumed. You of all dogs should know of the war, and how we ultimately lost."

He turned his gaze to the clouds above and his expression darkened. The other Brute not holding Sesa in place stood next to the Chieftain, cracking his knuckles in preparation.

"You wouldn't have won if the Arbiter's interests aligned with the Demon's. Or if that Flood that claimed High Charity hadn't wished for the Sacred Rings to be deactivated. And yet, your brothers took it as they were better and stronger than the Brutes once and for all. A false ideal, but it was one that lasted for years before our war. After all, your ancestors wrote songs of their dominance over my ancestors. You should know this, your brothers have sung them to this day."

Now Sesa had no clue where this was going. Their species had hatred for each other for years. What was so important about that now? That they finally got to prove it in a way?

"Arrogance is something I can tolerate. But after we lost the war, my own brothers began to believe it. I have seen it in their eyes, the feeling that they are inferior and therefore conquerable."

Out of nowhere, he became enraged at the thought. His left hand clutched tight into a fist, and he rose it up to Sesa's chest level.

"And do you know why that gets under my skin, you filthy overgrown lizard?"

He slammed his fist right into Sesa's stomach. Sesa clutched at his chest and stumbled, but his captors kept him standing right up.

But the Chieftain punched him in the stomach again. Blood came out of Sesa's mouth and stained the grass below in blue.

Sesa tried his best to suppress his expression of the pain. It might have hurt, but he had been through worse and made it. He was going to make it through this one.

"THAT IS WHY!" the ape shouted. "They believe they are inferior to the likes of you, when you demonstrated through your weakness how wrong that belief is. If you did not have that armor on you, I could crush your bones and ripple your flesh with my bare hands. You know this, and try to explain it away with your 'honor' and 'brains'. That will get you nowhere anymore."

The Elite looked back up at the Chieftain and remained expressionless. He had wanted to spit at the furball's face, but he was smart enough to know he would be rewarded with another punch.

"So what are you saying?" he finally asked.

"What I need to do is for them to see what I have just saw," the Brute explained. "They need to know that Brutes are the dominant race over the Elites, not the opposite. They need an example, a symbol you might say. And I came here to find the man to become that symbol. And you are that man."

Sesa scoffed at the idea. "Good luck with that."

"Oh, you're the one who is going to need luck in the future. But for now, your armor is getting in the way of my objective."

Sesa's mind raced in fear. The last time he knew of any Elite being stripped of his armor was the Arbiter, when he was branded with the Mark of Shame in High Charity. And that was the result of a death sentence. This could only mean bad things for him.

His suspensions were confirmed when the Brutes holding him looked at the Chieftain with longing.

"Yes, it's time. Hold him down and strip him of his armor. Do not leave any piece left, he cannot have an opportunity to fight back during his stay at our base."

Sesa tried to struggle with the Brutes when they tried to force him to the ground. But his efforts were rewarded with a flurry of punches in the chest and stomach. His ability to fight back was physically gone, and he could not resist their advances any longer.

They lowered him onto his back on the forest floor. Two pairs of hands went for the pieces of armor on his legs first.

The armor was strapped on tight, but it wasn't long until he could feel his skin being free from the armor bits. He heard as the pieces of armor clanged onto the floor, and he looked down to see his legs were being stripped first. It wasn't long until the only thing that was on there was the jumpsuit.

He wanted to fight back so badly, but they had taken the wind out of him.

They proceeded to the armor on his arms. More and more skin was exposed with every piece that came off, and soon all that remained were the bits of armor on his head and the chest plate.

There was an increasing sense of shame enveloping his mind when his head was similarly stripped of its protection. It had been years since he had last been seen naked by anyone, and he treasured the armor he was losing. It was a sign of ranking, of the honor he had earned in battle. And he lost it all because of a little racial hatred.

The only things that remained were the chest plate and the jump suit. But a third Brute came in and held him in place while the other two tugged at the chest piece.

"Why does it have to be so heavy?" one complained. "Not even his mandible pieces were this difficult to tear off!"

"Do not talk until I tell you to stop your job," the Chieftain replied. "I've waited long enough for this moment, do not disappoint me any further."

"But Mataeus, most Brutes put heat on the armor first!"

"It does not matter," the Chieftain, apparently named Mataeus, said. "You've gotten this far and it's cool out here. You keep going."

They forced themselves to keep pulling, until a crack came out of his armor. It wasn't long until the chest plate came completely off. Sesa felt hard to the ground, still clutching at his chest.

Now the only protection he might have had was gone. His chances of resistance vanished before his eyes.

All that remained was the jumpsuit. One of them pointed out a tear at the chest area, and they used that as the basis to pull away at the suit. More of his bare skin was exposed, and he felt a relieving sensation when his skin was allowed to feel the cool air of the atmosphere, the first time in months. It contrasted with the emotions he was feeling, of anger and shame.

They removed the last of the jumpsuit, leaving Sesa naked. He wanted to cover up and hide his body from the other men that were watching, but he could not. The shame had completely covered him over now, and the armor he had prided himself of was gone.

"Finally, we get to see how weak you really are," Mataeus roared with delight. "Your natural state...I had forgotten how Elites looked without their armor. My first thoughts that you were all overgrown lizards stays firm. Now you're ready for the journey."

The Brute reached for a strap on his backside, and he came back with a vaccine. It was full of green liquids, something Sesa did not know about. The other Brutes held him in place even tighter than before, though he did not find a reason to flee.

Mataeus approached him with the poison and aimed the needle for Sesa's arm.

"What journey?"

"Not the Great Journey, that option has sunk," Mataeus smirked. "You'll know what kind of journey it is when this wears off."

He pierced the arm with the needle and pushed down on the vaccine. The liquid entered Sesa's system and started its work.

It gave him a strong sense of pain at first, but the next effect was the feeling that darkness was taking over his body. His limbs fell asleep on him, and his head felt dizzy from the effects.

"Get our exit ready," he could hear Mataeus say. "He'll be out cold soon."

Sesa could barely see him past the black blobs clouding his vision. It wasn't long until they were all he could see, and his body forced him to sleep.

The Chieftain laughed underneath his breath when his poison took full hold of the Elite.

_You poor devil. When you see what awaits you, you'll wish you had stayed asleep._


	2. Chapter 2: Destination

_Never stop. Never surrender._

_They will find any way they can to bring you down. If you show your weakness to them, they will use that knowledge to their advantage. Anything that will give them a victory._

_Most importantly, Sesa, do not believe what the Jiralhanae will say about your race. Sangheili are the ones that keep the Prophets safe, and if it were not for them, the Covenant would have crumbled a long time ago._

The voice echoed in Sesa's head, and it would not stop. It was from a memory he had a long time ago, when he was still a child in his home. These were the things his father had said to him, right before he left Sanghelios to join the war.

_But no matter what those humans do to you, do not let them capture you. Or anyone for that matter. It is more honorable to die in battle than to live the rest of your life inside a cage._

His voice was trailing away, and it was replaced with a sense of aching all over on Sesa. What it was from, he did not know. He could feel pressure on his wrists and ankles, and he discovered his body was contorted into a sitting position.

_One day, this will be your war too. Things will change. I might die before the day comes where we fight together. But this is the Covenant. They have lasted for centuries, and it must remain strong, even as our fathers and sons shed their blood around us._

The darkness was fading from his sight, and he was starting to make out what he was looking at. The first thing he made out was a rifle pointed at his face, held by a familiar furry hand.

_And I believe you could be a great warrior one day. You are a Sarkam, after all. Three generations of our family have honored themselves in battle, and their blood runs through your veins._

The voice of his father completely faded away, and his vision restored itself in time.

He was still naked in the flesh, but this was more akin to the fortress than the forest. Dark purple hues glowed from the light, and he was strapped to a chair. His wrists and ankles were restrained with cuffs tied to the chair, limiting his movement.

His body was aching everywhere, but there were no signs that they had done something to him while he was unconscious. It didn't take much thought to believe that it might have had something to do with the vaccine he was given earlier.

He looked around the ship, and saw one Brute was standing watch over him. The guard was taking his job very seriously, he never ceased to keep the rifle pointed at Sesa at all times. The other Brute present was Mataeus himself. But he seemed distant in thought, and did not acknowledge that the Sangheili was now awake.

Sesa looked to his right to see that the other two Jiralhanae were sitting in chairs of their own, observing everything that was occurring outside the place. Their hands were glued to a series of controls, adjusting with every little development.

It struck him where he finally was: He was inside a Covenant drop ship. And they were in space, far away from Sanghelios, the planet that he called home.

How could this be? His mind went through all the possibilities based on the information he knew. Mataeus captured him to show the Brutes something, and he wanted to make Sesa an example. Or some kind of symbol. Jiralhanae logic wasn't the best in the Covenant, that honor went to the Sangheili.

Wait. He wanted to show the Brutes something.

Did that mean they were going to their home world now?

That could not be, he reasoned. It couldn't. It might have made sense at one angle, but he tried to pretend it was outside the realm of reality. If they went there, the chances of escape or coming out of this alive were...was there any chance at all?

Mataeus tilted his head and smiled at the sight of Sesa waking. He came to the pilots and seemed more than satisfied with the way things were going.

"The prisoner is awake. How much longer until we touch down at Quirm?" he asked.

Quirm? That was no planet the Elite had heard of. At least it wasn't the Brutes' world.

"Ten minutes. You see that green spot over there? That's Quirm," the co-pilot informed.

"Good. Land us near Area 4B."

"But nobody's there. I thought you wanted him..."

"I do. But that will start tomorrow morning. There are a few more preparations I need to make. He is not ready for our plans yet, and neither are our men."

The co-pilot nodded and pushed a few more buttons on the control panel. The drop ship sped up its pace, and its outer rims rumbled while it was adjusting to speeds closer to slip space.

Sesa had carefully heard everything the two Brutes had said. It was a relief that whatever was going to happen to him wouldn't happen until tomorrow, but what was waiting for him on Quirm?

Mataeus came out of the cockpit and went right to the Elite. He crouched down to where their eye levels met and chuckled like he heard a funny joke.

"Most Elites haven't heard of Quirm, so I'm assuming that's what you're asking yourself right now. It is a jungle planet that is close to ours, but it's more akin to a inhabitable moon. Not very big either, you could cross around it in a week by foot."

"So you brought me for a vacation," Sesa snapped. "I expected more."

"Then you don't know what we've been using it for. It's been a military base of the Brutes ever since they joined the Covenant, and many of us fled there when the Covenant was defeated. It's very much operational, so there's around 50,000 men armed to the teeth all over the planet. That might sound impressive, but morale has been down for some time now. I believe it's about time I did something about it."

"So it's a jungle planet full to the brim with apes. If I wanted to see that, I would have visited a rain forest on Earth."

Mataeus growled and clenched his hand up in a fist. It was aimed right for Sesa's head, but he lowered it before he did any damage.

So there was a limit to his will after all. Sesa made a mental not of it, and smiled with his mandibles.

"We will see if you're still smiling when I'm through with you," Mataeus whispered. "The release of death will seem sweet compared to your future."

The drop ship rumbled again, and Mataeus stumbled from the force of it, whatever the hell it was. He turned to the window outside and seemed thrilled with what he was seeing.

Sesa turned to see what was going on, and he witnessed the vessel making its descent to the planet. Its surface was solid green, with blue swirls and dots in a few spots. No doubt that it was rivers and lakes.

So this was Quirm. That green had to be from jungle tops after all.

Every Brute on board seemed all the more excited when they caught their destination arriving. Sheers of wind wrapped around the ship as it started its descent down to solid ground.

Sesa merely grumbled when it was occurring, wondering when it was going to be over with. He clenched his fists when the ship shook violently from the gravity pull of the planet.

"Stabilize this ship if you're worth a damn!" Mataeus commanded.

The co-pilot punched a few more buttons, and the gravity pull's intensity went down a few notches. It did not go away completely, but it had become more bearable.

Everything around the ship took on a different form. It went from black and featureless to dark green and full of dust when they entered the atmosphere and could make out the green sky.

The ship leveled off point by point with every passing moment, and Sesa could make out what was on the surface. The planet was truly one big jungle after all.

All the tall trees of the forest could not compare to the trees of Quirm. They rose as high as ten stories and the highest went for twenty, and they were much like those of a rain forest or a jungle on Earth. Vines hung down from all of them, and the floor was lush with bushes and grass.

Mataeus barked a simple order to the co-pilot, and he turned the ship to halt its descent. It flew right above the trees, just enough to gain clearance They still managed to brush a few leaves aside, but it did not hinder their progress for more than a few seconds at a time.

"How far away is the base?" Mataeus said.

"We're right above it. Starting our descent now."

The ship ended its progress, and hovered over a spot without trees to block them from their destination. It came down slowly to the ground, foot by foot. But they all jumped in their spots when the ship collided with grass and bushes.

"You slow witted fool! You lowered us too much! If you killed any of our men below, I will personally make sure we make examples out of **two** men tomorrow!"

The co-pilot nodded and lifted the ship back up. Sesa chuckled at the way the Brute was trying to save his own skin, but the ship came to a complete stop in the air soon enough.

"You, take the Elite and bring him down to the surface," Mataeus said to the guard. "Make sure he is still bound."

"There's no point in running right now," Sesa grumbled.

Nevertheless, the guard went to him and pressed a few buttons on the shackles over the ankles. They clicked and came off his feet, letting them free. He stretched out his legs as much as the position would allow.

The guard proceeded to work on Sesa's arm restraints. After a few clicks and button pressing, the shackles came off his arms. However, he would not give the prisoner a chance to flee. He brought his arms behind his back with a great deal of force.

After more shuffling, Sesa's wrists were once again restrained by the shackles, but they were attached to each other rather than to the chair like before.

"On your feet," the guard ordered.

Sesa offered no resistance and got back up to his feet. He knew there was no way out for now, and if there was an escape route in this situation, he couldn't see it.

The guard held him by his constraints and forced him to walk to the dropping point. It was a white platform on the back side's floor, and it opened up to the jungle below. They descended from the confines of the ship to the jungles of Quirm.

Area 4B, as Mataeus had described it, stood out like a sore thumb to its surroundings.

For being a military base, it didn't look like one that the Sangheili had seen in his lifetime. Rather than showcasing some kind of industrial design, this was more akin to a village that his earliest ancestors would have made than anything else.

Around thirty to forty huts were present inside the base, acting as barracks for the primitive Brutes. There were tables off to the side for meals, composed entirely out of wood. They had constructed bridges that rose high above the barracks and connected to more huts and a few intelligence centers, wrapped around the trunks of the trees. They made for great vantage points to those who stood on them.

The base felt like a massive step back in progress and technology compared to the fortress Sesa had just left, save for one building in particular. It was made of concrete and easily the biggest building in the base.

The guard dragged him to its path, and he knew that it was his ultimate designation point.

Mataeus landed from the drop ship behind the two, and kept a careful eye on his prey. His hand held tight to his Gravity Hammer to be ready for the worst case scenario.

The ship left the base and went for an unknown second destination, leaving the Elite with the two beasts.

"How long until the other packs arrive?" the Chieftain asked.

"Later tonight, if what I heard from our ship was correct," said the guard. "They've been waiting for this day to arrive for a while. They will ask you what took so long."

"But the wait will be worth it, don't you think so, Elite?"

As they continued their way to the building, Sesa shot Mataeus a glare.

"You have not bothered to explain your intentions for me," he stated. "Turning me into a symbol can mean several things."

"So I have not. I'll explain myself inside."

They came to the entrance of the facility, if that's what it really was. The door was similar to that of a Covenant's vessel, in that it opened automatically if unlocked when a person came to it. The door seemed at odds with the material elsewhere, but they went in all the same.

As soon as they went by, it was clear that this was a prison for the captive. It was not as inspired as the Covenant's, taking cues from the features of UNSC buildings. After all, it needed to be enduring through the kind of things it was built for.

The walls and pillars were just as made of hard concrete as the exterior of the prison walls were, but rather than offering jails to keep the prisoners in place, there were chambers guarded with an energy shield, much like a vessel of theirs. Around six of these places existed, three for each side.

The guard brought him to the one cell that did not have its shield engaged. He realized that he was the only prisoner in here, but the cell that would be his had all sorts of blood staining the walls: Human, Elite, Jackal, Grunt, even Brute blood. Claw marks scarred the inner wall with tales that he did not care to learn.

He was thrown into that same prison without any remorse by his captor, and he stumbled on his way inside. He wound up landing on his knees, and turned around to see that the force field had been deployed to trap him inside.

First time for everything, he mumbled to himself. This was the first time he had been disciplined or imprisoned. His clean record did not necessitate anything like that for him.

Mataeus waved the guard away, leaving only him and the Elite in the room. He brought his face a few feet away from the field with a grin on his lips. His attitude carried a hint of sadism, though it was not obvious how.

Sesa came back to his feet and stood face to face with the man responsible for his predicament.

"This will not be enough to end me," he stated. "Now, explain your motives at once. You have no reason to hide them from my mind any longer. I'm right where you want me."

"The arrogance of the Elites never ceases to amaze me," Mataeus began. "You know that terrible things await for you, and you still pretend you're a commander on the field. But enough small talk. Now I will state my plans to you.

"Turning a man into a symbol requires time, effort, and action. As I stated before, you will turn into a symbol of the Sangheili's failure, their failure to stand against the strength of the Brutes. And I will ensure that you will do it through your appearance and the end of your stubborn will.

"When you came in, you must have seen the barracks made for my men. They will arrive pack by pack throughout the day to this base, awaiting what I have promised them for months now. By tomorrow morning, there will be a platform, one for all to witness what will become of you.

"What I have promised is that I will bring an Elite to them, and publicly torture and humiliate him by my bare hands. You will be tortured in such a way that your body will carry dozens of scars, barely resembling its current shape. Each scar will be a reminder of your failure to stop the unthinkable from happening to you.

"And when that is over, the next part of your punishment will commence. I will aim for your mind and your pride, and you shall fall to a place as low as your species should have been a long time ago."

The Elite could barely contain his laughs. That was one of the most outrageous plans he had ever heard of. Surely he must have known how well Elites could handle torture and such demands. And that was his plan?

However, his laughter did not get to Mataeus. He kept his composure and went on to the next step of his plan.

"That only seems funny because you did not perceive it as reality. But once it begins, it won't cease until you come climbing back to me. Begging for the release of death, anything that can separate you from your new life."

"I doubt it. Many Brutes and humans have fallen underneath my hand, I can handle the force of another foe."

"You will not see me as another Brute to kill when you come back here tomorrow evening. But enough mental games. I have work to do."

He walked away from the force and exited the prison, leaving Seas there by himself.

The prisoner turned around and sat down on the floor, crossing his legs and putting his arms by his side. Not a very natural position, but he didn't have a whole lot of options left.

Every little blood stain stared back at him. The walls hadn't been scrubbed since the prison had been opened. It was something he figured out from the sight, he could not explain the sight otherwise. Why else would there be human and Elite blood when the latter had only recently became their enemies?

Yet he did not understand the "stories" that were also present. He shuffled his legs to a more comfortable position and took a deep breath. Good composure and a strong will were required for tomorrow.

He brought his attention specifically to the claw marks. Some appeared fresher than others, especially the ones made by Elite and Grunt hands. What did Mataeus do to them?

One trail felt bigger to him than the rest. It was made with an Elite's claws, given that it had four trails of fingers and the middle two were bigger than the outer ones. It started from the top of the cell, roughly where his shoulders would have come to. The first bit stopped for some distance, and then it continued again a few inches below it. These dug even deeper into the wall, and his fingers must have been bleeding at this point, since the marks were covered in blood.

And then it got worse for this poor soul. The trail continued again, but in a highly unusual spot down on the floor. And that part of the cell was thicker than the walls.

Whoever this Elite was, he was dragged out of his cell. He tried to stay away from what was waiting for him.

It was very likely that Mataeus gave him a painful death. Otherwise, he might have been here and not absent.

Sesa's hands clenched themselves into fists. He would handle his torturing as well as he could, but he didn't want to die either. Not like this.

_Never stop. Never surrender._

The thoughts of that last moment with his father came back to his memory. But he didn't heed those words at first for their wisdom. He climbed back to his hooves and slammed the field with his fist. It refused to react to the punch, turning the action into a waste of force.

_Never stop. Never surrender._

It was useless. He knew it. However, he forced himself to remember those words. They had kept him moving on his toes when he had stormed the planet of Reach.

_Never surrender._

He backed away from the wall. The will to fight was coming back in his blood. Those words brought his will back to where it should have been.

Sesa Sarkam was an Sangheili. His race had served as the guards of the Prophets for a very good reason, and they went on to become one of the biggest allies of the UNSC. And it wasn't from running away at the first sight of danger.

No, they charged at it with their heads held high and their swords ready at the helm. They would never stop until they heard the shouts of victory, and their will to fight never diminished.

And _he_ had been sent to serve under the Arbiter. When the Arbiter was branded in the city of High Charity, he came back to fight even though he experienced more shame than thousands would ever feel combined. And he came back from the ashes to lead the Sangheili themselves.

If Sesa wanted to stand with his brothers in pride, he would not dodge away from his fate. He would stay headstrong and become an example for his brothers, just as he did in battle. This field of battle, the mental one, was no different. If he did not surrender or break, he would be the victor.

So what if this place would become his tomb. He would not break to a Brute's will. Not this one.

He sat down on the floor with his legs crossed again, his body and mind awaiting for what may come.

When you are waiting for something to happen as Sesa was, and nothing of note happens during that time, time passes by slower than it ever will. Your mind anticipates what the future holds with all its might, and it will not be satisfied until it has what it's been waiting for.

As not a single Brute had come into the prison for several hours, Sesa found himself growing bored. There was no hint that anyone could be arriving soon, but he did not force himself to sleep just yet. He could see through a few small windows near the ceiling, and made out that the sun had recently set. Maybe he would sleep soon. His body could use it.

He had grown used to going through a light exercise pattern every two hours or so. Every so often, he would be on his feet and stretching his limbs from side to side, trying to stay warmed up before the worst would arrive.

This was the longest he had spent without his armor on, but that was the easiest thing to adjust to. Being in the buff was something he could live with, as long as he was not sexually touched by another man unwillingly. The hardest part was adjusting to the fact that _he was now a prisoner._

He did not get a full minute into his latest stretch when the door opened up and Mataeus had arrived. But this time was different. When the door was wide open, Sesa could hear something outside.

The sound of drums and chatter. Chatter that he immediately recognized as more Jiralhanae.

This time, Mataeus did not bother with appearances. The only thing he had to sport were his boxers, and his Hammer was entirely absent. But now he had something in his hand, a kind of switch with a button.

He came out to the middle of the room, his hands toying with the button.

"You have adjusted better than most to their new circumstances. They are usually hungry, and want me to provide something to eat and drink. But then again, you were drinking from a river like an animal when we found you."

"So you starved them," Sesa figured out.

"Some. Not all of them. Others value those things more than most. It takes one man the lack of food to break, another the dread of thirst, and more need other things. But I want you to hear this."

He pushed the button on the switch, and the entrance stayed open even without anyone nearby to activate it.

The sound of tribal drums and much beating of the feet rang in Sesa's ears. Every grunt he heard was that of a whole group of Jiralhanae. The noise was so loud in volume that it sounded less like a group and more like a crowd consisting of a hundred or more.

His heart beat with the drums against its will, and every lingering thought that he could escape died at that moment.

Mataeus pressed the button again, causing the door to close tightly as before.

"Every last man is expecting a massacre. And I'm not one to deny them what they want. Say, since this is the last time I'll ever see you unbroken, are there any last thoughts you would like to say? You won't be one for speaking by this time tomorrow."

Sesa came up to the force field without saying a word. He stood his ground and beat at his bare chest. Then he took a step out, and roared the Sangheili battle cry at the top of his lungs.

He was filled with much pride and honor as he roared again. When he was finished, he felt like he could take any Brute any day of the week.

The battle cry did not do anything for Mataeus. He turned around and merely stood in place.

"I told you pride and honor would get you nowhere here. And I will finally prove it soon. Enjoy your last night before you're sent to my idea of hell."

He returned to the barracks outside, where the drums pounded away with the dance of the Brutes.

Sesa patted himself on the back mentally and laid down on the floor. It felt cool to the touch, but he did not mind it. His body would adjust to it soon enough.

Tomorrow would be rough, he was convinced that much was true. But it would take a lot more to break him...or so he hoped.

Without the aid of anything to make his rest more comfortable, he drifted off to sleep.

It would be the last moment of relief or comfort he would feel for a long time.


	3. Chapter 3: Cracks in the Surface

The windows of the prison were not very large at all. They were more akin to opening an eye by one inch and nothing more, but it was enough for the sunlight to trickle inside at a certain point of the day.

The time happened to be in the early morning hours. They trickled inside the walls of the prison, giving it the first bit of light in some time.

Sesa opened his eyes when he could feel it coming into his cell. His limbs felt noticeably better than they did at the drop ship. He curled his fingers up into balls, and the lack of pain in them stood out to him. Just the other day, it only took a little bit of movement to attract pain to them.

Nobody was over here with him, and it was possible he had awoken before his punishment today. This was a period of time he could take advantage of.

He slowly staggered to his feet, since his body was not fully awake yet. It took a few slaps to the face before he felt part of this world again. It might have hurt to do so, but considering what the Brutes did to their prisoners, it was nothing to speak of.

When he came to, he leaned his back against a spot on the wall that did not have excessive amounts of blood to dirty his back.

After checking his senses, he realized how thirsty he was. He smacked his mandibles and saw that they were dry to the touch. His stomach was in better shape, but it was feeling emptier than he was accustomed to. It wouldn't be long until he was hungry.

Another foreign noise filled his ears, something he wasn't sure he was going to like. Chatters filled the air near the doors, and it sounded like the voices of a million people.

The voices of Sesa's audience. The similarities between his punishment and the Arbiter's demonstration were gaining by the hour.

He brought himself to the force field and leaned against the surface, doing anything that could improve the clarity of the sound. The voices were clearer by a slight margin, but it was pointless when a cell was as small as his was. He could have gotten the same quality of reception from the back of his cell.

But something stood out to him. He could make out heavy footsteps, and the talking quieted down to silence in response.

It must have been Mataeus, Sesa thought. His clothing suggested he was the Chieftain, and judging from the sounds he was hearing, Mataeus might have been the Chieftain over more than one pack.

"Did I not say I would deliver to you?" the voice shouted out to the audience. It was at such a volume that even he could hear it from here, and it was Mataeus' voice. "I do not make promises unless I know I can follow through. And I have!"

The crowd did not react. The silence spoke wonders to Sesa.

"I have heard the rumors that you have begun to doubt my authority. After this morning, that rebellion will be put to rest. But for now, we will summon the prisoner!"

Sesa's heart beat wildly in his chest. The moment was finally here, and it was time to prove that his will was as strong as his blade.

But he did find himself panicking when he knew the torture would soon begin. Training oneself to be ready for mentally challenging ordeals was one thing, but preparing for the moment was different from actually experiencing it.

The door opened up again, and two Brutes came inside. Neither one was Mataeus, but they were both armed to the teeth. Every strap they had on their chest carried two guns a piece.

Sesa grumbled underneath his breath, but he did not try to escape. He leaned back against the wall once more and crossed his arms.

The ones acting as his guards seemed happy to have this job, and slight smiles were painted on their faces. One came to the force field with something in his hand, it shared some characteristics as Mataeus' panel in its appearance.

He brought his face to the force field. The joy in his eyes was balanced with anger.

"If you run away when I open this field," he threatened, "you will come to regret it."

"You would believe I'm a coward, when I am an Elite?" Sesa questioned.

"You wouldn't be the first."

The other Brute stood by him as he pressed a few buttons on the panel, tinkering with the settings. He found the corresponding setting and pushed it in. The force field came down, leaving Sesa to the whim of the warriors.

They came to him to bind his arms, but he put his hands up and stood tall. "I can walk. It will take much more for me to flee."

He walked out of his cell, his chin held up, and went for the exit. The guards looked at each other in confusion, but they pulled out their plasma rifles and aimed them at Sesa's head as a precaution regardless of the curious actions of their prisoner.

The voices outside were picking up in volume when he got close to the doors. The atmosphere was electric, and if he had not known that it was a pack of Brutes awaiting his arrival, he would have thought this was some kind of promotional ceremony. If only that much was true.

There was no turning back after this. If he had fought back against the guards and stole their weapons, he had a slim shot at breaking free. But even at his healthy state, he knew it was a worthless plan. The odds were stacked against him too highly. So rather than finding a way to make it work, he walked outside and awaited what would happen.

It was true that a huge crowd gathered at the base for him. Almost every step of land by the barracks were packed with Jiralhanae, and he could not estimate how many there were. Hundreds for sure, maybe even a few thousands.

They erupted in anger and cheers simultaneously when they saw the Sangheili. Some raised their fists in the air as a military salute, others were ready to charge at him and tear his flesh from their bones. But they stayed in place, many guards were placed as a barricade between them and the prisoner.

One managed to break free from the guards and ran after Sesa. The guards turned around and fired on him. He twitched from the contact and fell on his face. His back was black from all the plasma.

"Your audience is expecting a bloodbath," one guard said. "If you wish, I could snap your neck right now and save you from the worst."

"Never. If you want to kill an Elite, there's plenty on Sangheilios," Seas replied.

The guard snarled, but he did not break his neck out of spite either.

The other guards outlined the way Sesa would have to walk through their barricade. They led him past the crowd to an elevated platform made out of wood. A few steps led up to it from the dirt below.

Mataeus waited for him there with his Gravity Hammer lying nearby. Two long poles punctuated the platform, and a rope came down from each. One of them had cuffs and the other was bare beyond the rope, and they were carved into their present state.

The crowd roared at Sesa as he came up the path to the platform. Many of them threw insults at him if they believed he could hear them.

"Elite scum!"

"The Prophets will be smiling today! They'll stand watch as you burn!"

"Where's the Demon to save your kin now, Sangheili?"

None of the comments managed to get under Sesa's skin. He went up the steps in a calm manner and met Mataeus on the platform. Mataeus placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling ear to ear.

"I consider it a good day today," he said. "For you, you'll remember it in a different manner."

"We will see," Sesa responded. "Do not waste my time more than you already have."

Mataeus didn't flinch a muscle, and walked out to the crowd he had waited to see for some time.

The audience had grown rabid in its actions, jumping up and down and shouting against Sesa with malice he hadn't seen in a while.

"BURN THE ELITE!" they chanted. "BURN THE ELITE!"

The Chieftain raised his hand in the air as a command to them, and they turned silent at the turn of a dime.

"Yes, we will. I have brought an Elite before you all, as you can see here. The very promise I made months ago is now fulfilled. And it shall begin before your very eyes!"

The crowd clapped in response. It was like it had a singular voice to Sesa, one of a Brute that wanted the very worst for him.

But it did not bother him so much. It wasn't like this was the first time a collection of these apes wanted him to die.

"Tie him up to the posts," Mataeus ordered. "Make these ropes as tight as you can make it. He must not be able to hide from his punishment."

The guards in charge over him were waiting for their command on the platform. They pushed him to the space between the two poles.

Sesa did not hesitate to come to that spot, and raised his eyes to the sky. He was secretly hoping his deceased father was watching him, so he could prove that he was as strong in the mind as he was with his body.

They grabbed his arms and stretched them outward to the poles. That was where the ropes were located, and they went to tie his wrists into place.

In this position, his arms were completely stretched out and stuck to the poles. His legs were free to move as they pleased, but it was useless when the arms could not move at all.

He was held right on the edge of the platform, where the audience could read his face for all it was worth.

His chest rose while he took deep breaths, and he gathered his mental resources for this moment.

_I will never stop. I will never surrender. Even if it costs my life, it is better to die in battle than to live the rest of my life in a cage._

The crowd was picking back up in intensity. He could not see it, but Mataeus was gathering something in his hand. Somehow, in that spot, he turned his head to see what was getting the crowd so rowdy.

Mataeus held a black leather whip in his hand. It was long in length, it reflected the sunlight of the morning. He held onto it like he was holding the hand of a loved one, with much reverence and affection.

Sesa cringed at the thought of being whipped. It was such a barbaric method of punishment that nobody in the Covenant used it in this age...unless it was a Brute doing it. It was simple and brutal, right in their alley.

But he hated it anyway. His back would be considerably scarred in the process, and it was going to do more than sting. He clenched his eyes and forced himself to accept that this was going to happen.

The crowd chanted its nasty tag line, "BURN THE ELITE!" again and again. Mataeus extended the whip with his arms and prepared it for service. Sesa moved his arms to get as comfortable as possible, doing anything to make the whipping more bearable.

And then, the moment had arrived.

Sesa growled in agony when he felt the whip come right into his back. It cut deep within his skin and the slash it left behind felt like it was on fire. His body slumped from the surprise of the pain, but he manged to get himself to stand back on his feet.

The collection of Brutes applauded the first strike, but they wanted more. They needed much more to be satisfied. And Mataeus was going to do just that for them.

He struck hard against Sesa's back again, hitting just above the first strike's location. Sesa roared from the whip, but it was through sheer will that he was not slumping.

Sweat formed along his chest, and he spent all of his strength to stay calm. It wasn't easy when the crowd was so happy to see him like this.

Another strike found itself only a few inches above his hide. He did stumble from the hit this time, but there was not much room to drop when his arms were tied as high as they were.

But it was not enough to slake Mataeus' thirst for blood. Within the span of ten seconds, he landed another four whips on the Sangheili. It did not matter where the whip went to him, therefore he struck at areas already sore from the first three hits.

Sesa gasped at the latest series of marks. It was getting to be excruciatingly awful for him. He could feel blood coming out of his back to trickling down his legs, and it was a terrible sensation. His body was starting to lose traction, but the will to fight had not.

"Is that all you have?" he muttered.

That enraged Mataeus. He took a few steps back to ready himself, and shot at Sesa harder than ever before. The Elite's bounds shook with force as he absorbed the blow.

The witnesses loved what they were seeing. The wait was proving more than worth it when this is what they were getting. Soon, they were chanting a new line: "WE WANT MORE! WE WANT MORE!"

And so Sesa's back received another two whips. It was got to the point where every strike sent out a little bit more blood, staining the area around his legs.

He muttered curses aimed for Mataeus underneath his breath. It wasn't even a consideration to break, but his senses were beginning to dull. His back was like the only part of his body that existed, and he could feel the pieces of flesh that had fallen out from the process.

The chieftain ceased the punishment for now. He came to Sesa's side and brought his lips close to his ear. "Have you had enough?"

Sesa turned to him with a hateful look. "I expected more from you," he whispered. "Tartarus would have been ashamed to call you a Chieftain."

Contrary to before, Mataeus used his rage as a weapon in this case. He went back and unleashed five more quick strikes against Sesa. It splattered more blood into the air, and the scars that would be left behind were very numerous by now.

Sweat poured down the Sangheili's face and chest, and blood poured out of his new scars. He could not be steady on his feet, and he almost slipped out of consciousness a few times. All he could hear were nasty chants and cheers from the crowd.

Whenever he thought he was getting used to this, his back was struck again. He lost count how many whippings he had received at twenty, and they were still coming.

But after a moment, he noted that the strikes weren't as hard as before. After the latest one, he could make out that Mataeus was not pleased with his whip any longer.

"Get me a second whip," he commanded to one of his men. "This one is useless now."

He caught a glimpse of the old whip. It was coated purple in his blood, and it had tears all over. Chunks of his flesh were caught in those tears, and he realized that his state was even worse than he imagined would happen last night.

The guard returned to Mataeus with a brand new whip. It was as black and tough as the last one, and it meant more pain and agony for him.

With the new whip in hand, the Jiralhanae went back to work on the Elite. Another whip came down hard on his body, and another one. The whip count had past thirty a long time ago, but Mataeus wasn't tired of it just yet. He was beginning to sweat and tire from extending himself so hard, but his lust for blood hadn't dimmed.

So much blood was leaking from Sesa's back that it was difficult to see his back at all past it. And he could feel it coming out well enough, as it felt like a river was pouring out of him. His legs were coated with the stuff. A small puddle had even formed at the bottom.

"So arrogant now, are you, Elite?" Mataeus barked.

Sesa had managed to find a way to work around the mental stress of the situation. Rather than take it as his own fault, he turned all the emotions from it into pure hatred towards Mataeus. He wanted nothing more than to regain his sword and cut the Jiralhanae's head from his shoulders.

But it did little relief when the whip count had reached fifty. There was not a part of his back that was left unscathed. Tears had managed to come down from his eyes, much to the delight of the audience.

"COWARD!" they began to repeat. "COWARD!"

It was the first thing that got under his skin all day, even worse than the whipping. How could he explain those tears? Soldiers did not cry from their torture, and it was almost a sin to cry from physical pain to his brothers.

Was he starting to break?

By the Arbiter, he could not be. He pushed the idea out of his head, but he could barely see straight. Everything was out of focus from the considerable blood loss, and he could not tell that the crowd was applauding Mataeus as loud as they possibly could.

The Chieftain barked an order to his guards, and they came to the poles with knifes. They used them to cut the rope down and release Sesa.

He thought he would have the energy to stand, but he fell down on his back right into the small puddle of his own blood. The whip marks ignited in pain, and he screamed again in agony.

It was exactly like the human saying, "pouring salt into their wounds". Everything felt worse with the contact, and he quickly forced himself to roll over to stop the pain. His body was covered in blood, and it was a horrible sight to witness...unless you were a Brute, in which case this was the best thing you had seen since you laid your eyes on a female in heat.

Sesa's body violently shook around from the intense amount of whippings, and he was somehow able to get to his knees. The strength in the rest of his body was long gone, and this was the best he could do.

But it didn't take much time until he didn't have the power to even manage that, and he fell to his belly. Before he could get any kind of relief, the guards grabbed his arms again.

"Take him back to the prison immediately," Mataeus ordered.

His voice was high enough that the crowd could hear it, and they growled at the news. It wasn't enough for them to have Sesa merely _whipped_, considering some of their untouched torture methods...

"Before I hear you complaining again, I will summon him back here in the later afternoon. His torture isn't complete yet."

The guards picked the Sangheili up and wrapped their arms around his shoulders. They touched his upper wounds, but it did not sting as much as it did when he fell on his back. They pulled him off the spot and brought him towards the steps, while his feet were dragging behind on the ground.

He gasped for air while they were doing this. Any method he could figure for regaining his strength, he would take it.

They did not bother to pick up his legs when they went down the steps. The hooves smacked against every little step, but he was so much in pain that it was nothing of note to him anymore.

As they made their way to the prison, a small blood trail was left behind in their wake. Sesa could still feel the blood coming out of his back, and he wondered if he would die from it. Death from torture wouldn't be the worst end to have. Unfortunately, he would not have that luxury.

Meanwhile, the collection of Brutes were chanting Mataeus' name in a compliment for the punishment of Sesa. However, there were a few soldiers already returning to their barracks. There did not seem much left to see for them.

Indeed, those that had stayed did not seem into it as they did when the spectacle had begun. Perhaps it was enough to slake their thirst temporarily, but whatever it was, he did not hear much in the terms of insults on his way back.

Eventually, the doors of the prison opened as they arrived. They went back inside and came near the cell. Halfway there, they stopped their progress.

"Do we really need to put him back in there?" one guard asked. "Look at him. Do you think he could fight after something like that?"

"It doesn't matter," the other guard responded. "Have you seen what happened to the last guard that didn't obey his orders down to the last detail? It took five months before he could stand again. I would rather work with this animal than to not put him back in his cage."

The resistance to the idea had faded away. The Brutes dragged him back to the cell and dropped him inside.

Sesa fell to his knees again, but he was able to sit on his knees and hands in a bowing position. Along the way, he gained some composure again, but it was nothing compared to where he was when he woke up either.

The guards examined the areas around their armpits, and they were disgusted with what they saw. Sesa's blood had left enormous stains on their skin and fur.

"How did we not notice that?" one complained. "Had I thought this would happen, I would have dragged him by his arms! This will take weeks to clean!"

"Don't remind me," the other responded. "There's a bathing house not far from here. Let's hope we are the only ones inside. I would not want to be known as the one who got Sangheili blood on him."

They covered the blood spots with their arms, acting as if it was as bad as a hole in their bodies. It wasn't long before they were gone, sneaking out as if they were on a stealth mission.

It was the first moment that Sesa had to himself following the whipping. Whenever or not he knew it, this was the part where he would see what he was really made of. How he would react when he had been put through hell physically would say a lot about him.

His emotions were conflicting inside him. More tears were trying to form in his eyes, but he kept shaking from the trauma.

The bleeding was starting to cool down, but it was still bad enough that the area around him turned purple.

After much debating and fighting within himself, he crawled over to the wall and clung to it with his hands. He grunted in pain while he forced his body to get up, inch by inch.

His hands traversed up the wall as his legs started bending to stand. The skin on his back grew agitated while his muscles shifted around. Sweat came down his whole frame, but he would not be denied.

Somehow, some way, he managed to be standing on his feet again, although he had to lean on the walls to do it.

This was what he was made of, he thought. It would take much more to break him, and although he hated to admit he had gotten closer to surrendering to despair, he was still here. He was still standing strong against the Brutes.

His lungs gathered all the air it could, and he roared the battle cry once more.

But this time was different. It wasn't as strong in its conviction as it should have been. He roared again with such force that his chest rumbled from the force. But it still felt weak.

Again he ushered the battle cry, just to prove he was no different than any other Elite in his position. That was when he realized that it wasn't just his physical strength that diminished.

His legs quivered from the force put upon it, and they gave out underneath him. He fell to the floor and screeched as he landed on his chest again.

No, it could not be true. He was stronger than that. There were many battles in his record, among which he had to fight many of these Brutes. A simple whipping couldn't take that much away from him, fifty strikes or not.

Yet, when he tried to get up, his body would not agree with his desire. He tried to make his hands and feet steady while he used them to recover, but they gave up and he was flat on his belly and chest again.

How could he let himself do this? It was humiliating and frustrating enough that he let himself be captured, but now his body and mind were giving out on him as well?

The morning's rays of sunshine stopped shinning directly into the prison. It was still well lit, but it was also dimmer than before.

Sesa kept himself in that low position to get some rest, before he was sent out to that same audience for further torturing. This way, he could be back to normal and be better prepared for it.

That's what he kept telling himself. The truth of the matter is, he stayed on his belly because he knew he did not have the strength to do anything else.


	4. Chapter 4: Jiralhanae Paradise

In the final hours of the morning, Base 4B was a considerably different facility to be around. The barracks were crowded with many Brutes, the same ones that witnessed the Whipping of the Sangheili, as many were already calling it.

Almost every solider buzzed in anticipation over what came next. They were gossiping and guessing what Mataeus would do when he brought the Elite back out for seconds. A few were quiet in their huts for unexplainable reasons, though it did not seem too out of the ordinary for the seasoned veterans of Quirm.

When it was all said and done, Mataeus was the lone figure on the platform and the only one outdoors. The scent of Sesa's blood came to his nostrils, and he breathed it in to let his work sink in all the way into his memory. It had been a long time since he had an excuse to exert force on someone like he did.

However, the whipping had left him rather sweaty. Doing fifty whips took more of a toll on him than he expected, and his fur was glistening in precipitation. Jiralhanae were not renowned for outward appearances, not by a long shot, but he felt disgusting in his current state. Not to mention, his arms and shoulders were aching after repeating the same action for so long.

He quickly decided that he would stop by the bathing house, not far away from the base's main center of operations. Perhaps that could relax his muscles a bit before the evening's...other plans...went down.

The Gravity Hammer laid down flat on the platform, unattended for some time now. He grabbed it and slung its heavier end over his right shoulder. It always gave him a sense of power, with what it symbolized, his position as Chieftain. It was no different here.

He walked down the steps and headed for the bathing house. The guards in charge of the captive Elite had not come out of the prison by then, and he laughed to himself when he thought about Sesa.

The way to the house took him around the prison, over to an area more sparse than the barracks portion of the base. There were platforms and bridges high above with guards standing watch, but there was more jungle than establishment here...

...save for one building. It was impossible to ignore it, as it stood out like a sore thumb around the forest.

The bathing house had the appearance of a larger hut than any of the barracks, but it seemed like a better constructed building in its design. There was no door to speak of, just a hole in the wall for the visitors to come out of. Steam escaped through it in clouds, and it was music to his eyes.

He lowered the Hammer to his waist, humming one of the tribal songs as he did so. He looked to the platforms above him, counting the guards in a mental roll call. Everyone was where they needed to be.

The steam greeted his face as he walked inside the house. He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders while he came in.

The house felt just as natural yet hand built as the hut's appearance. The only discernible features were a series of pools full with hot, steaming water. Wispy steam filled the air all around the place, and there were a few racks on the walls to holster weapons to go around.

The Brute placed his Gravity Hammer on one of those racks, and gazed around the sauna. There wasn't anyone else in here with him, and while he was used to being naked in front of other men, even fighting in such a state once, it felt different to be unclothed by himself.

And so he took the straps covering his chest off, one by one. The skin breathed in and out with the temperature, and he placed the straps on the rack too. He went and removed his boxers as well, tossing them to rest right below the straps.

After he was finished undressing, he walked to one of the back pools in here and climbed down inside it. The water was very hot, but not unbearably so.

He gasped when he felt his muscles relaxing under the pool. It was exactly what he needed after such a long trek on Sangheilios, and he sunk deeper within the confines of the water. He leaned against the outer edges of the pool and brought his arms to float on the surface.

The last few weeks were stressful to him, regardless what he told himself and the pack following him on his mission. Knowing that he could rest here and acknowledging things were going smoothly was a welcome change of pace.

He closed his eyes and let the water do its work. His arms and legs cooled down and he moaned with the steam in his face.

_Sesa Sarkam, what a perfect candidate for my plans. The more arrogant and proud the Elite, the easier they break._

All of a sudden, he heard footsteps coming over to the house. He came off the side of his pool and moved to the center, curious what he would see.

When the visitors came into view, he figured them to be the same guards that looked over Sesa's whipping. Feature for feature, they matched those two men. They grumbled while they were coming to the racks, and he saw that they were covering blood spots with their hands. Stained from the Sangheili's blood.

"By the Rings, the stench is horrendous!" the youngest looking one complained. "The sooner this come off, the better!"

"Stop your complaining, Zekius," the oldest said. "You're in luck. We're the only ones here for now."

Mataeus raised an eyebrow. There's no way the steam could affect their vision that badly, to the point where they couldn't see him.

"Really?" Zekius asked. "That makes things better. How long should we stay here?"

"Unless Mataeus said anything else, I believe we have the day off until evening. Then we'll have to bring the prisoner out again."

That was true, the Chieftain thought. Nothing was noted of any duties, save for the patrol teams.

"Then let's make of the most of it, Jarius."

They arrived at a set of racks different from the one Mataeus had used. There, they took off their straps and boxers like he had done, and holstered their plasma rifles for safekeeping.

Then, they went to a pool far away from the Chieftain. Jarius looked to Zekius for a second and backed off, letting him go first. Zekius bent down on his knees and brought his feet in first, and then the rest of his legs. He was soon all in.

Shortly after that, Jarius hopped inside and brought himself close to the other guard.

It didn't take more than a second for Mataeus to realize they were mates. Ever since he brought them in as guards, they were always physically close to each other. He had tried to avoid this to stop any possible emotional issues between Sesa's guards, but he knew he had failed by now.

_They're not going to do what I think, are they? _he thought. He swam to the edge of his pool to get a better glimpse of the couple.

As soon as they were in, Zekius used a hand to scrub the blood off his arm joint. His fur moved around as the blue liquid started to wash away, dripping into the water.

"Are you having much luck with this?" said Jarius.

"It will take some time, but it's coming off. Why do you ask?"

"Have you not noticed something about this?"

Zekius just looked back at him, shrugging his arms.

"This is the first time in months that we've been alone together...and nobody else is going to be coming in for a while, if I'm right about his orders..."

Mataeus scoffed in his spot. He pulled himself out of the sauna and back tot the floor. If this was going any further than that, he was going to put a stop to it.

The younger Brute's eyes widened.

"But what about the blood? Shouldn't we take care of that first?"

"We'll be here for a while," Jarius said, with a slight edge in his voice.

The Chieftain's feet quietly went around the pools, crouching down to avoid any noise. He had to make sure THAT'S what they meant before he interrupted anything.

His suspensions were confirmed, as Zekius came closer to his mate. Jarius put a hand around his back and drew him even tighter to him, but he did not resist the move. In fact, he seemed...excited from it.

They were growling, but in a more soothing matter. He had his hands on Jarius' chest, and leaned on him for support. Jarius brought his mouth closer and closer, landing on his neck. Zekius moaned and gave in as his lover began to nibble on it.

Mataeus inched towards the pool while doing everything not to make a noise yet. Just needed to make sure it didn't go further...

And then the clincher came. Jarius explored Zekius' back with his hands, rubbing all over. Zekius seemed to be getting more excited from the experience, and up until Jarius brought his hands towards the front, bringing them below the surface of the water, towards the waist...

"If I wanted to see this, I could bring a female into my quarters," Mataeus finally said.

The guards yelped and turned around, pulling off the other as quickly as they could. They moved as far away as possible and their cheeks fumed red. Mataeus sat on the edge of their personal space, dangling his legs into the sauna.

"It's not what it looks like!" Jarius shrieked. "We swear, we were doing nothing in here!"

"At ease, Jarius," Mataeus said. "You falsely thought you had privacy, and you acted accordingly. And it's not the first time I've seen something like this."

Zekius beat Jarius on the shoulder a few times. "I knew it was a bad idea."

The Chieftain merely laughed and brought himself into their pool. He sunk into the water until it was shoulder deep, and acted as if nothing had happened.

The partners looked to each other in confusion. Here they were, just in the depths of passion, and now they were resting with their leader like it was an ordinary day in Quirm.

Mataeus didn't even acknowledge them for a moment, tilting his head up to the ceiling. He took a deep breath of the steam and exhaled it, as if it was cigarette smoke.

Zekius went and whispered something in Jarius' ears. Jarius listened in closely, and was the first to speak.

"Is there nothing you have to say to us?"

"If you want to mate so badly, a simple request for privacy would suffice. But there is something I want to ask first, since you were in charge during my absence."

The younger Jiralhanae's hands were shaking. He had come to regret his actions and wished nothing had even happened.

"Would you say the pack's behavior was much better today than it had been in some time?"

"What?" Zekius shouted. "Well...yes. Yes, it was. They haven't been this excited since some of them were witnesses to the Arbiter's branding."

"Just as I predicted. This was something they needed, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed," said Jarius. "It was a ghost town in here, even though there were thousands of us living together."

"And do you want to know why? Those songs the Elites have made of us, those cruel songs that preyed on their hatred of us, we never used to listen to them for their worth. There was a reason for this.

"We always won the battles if we needed to fight them. Why do you think the Prophet of Truth made us his guard in the final days of the war? Because we're more reliable. It wasn't under our watch that the Prophet of Regret died. But does it matter when an Elite, the Arbiter of all dogs, kills our Chieftain, and then slays the Prophet of Truth?

"That's when they start paying attention to what the Elites had to say, and then they start to believe the songs might be true."

He slammed a fist into the side. It left an impact in its place, a small crack on the surface.

"That is why the Jiralhanae I can control must see how wrong they are with Sesa. Did you see him cry while I was ruining his back forever?"

They nodded, out of fear more than anything else.

"So there is a limit on his will. And that proves to them that you can break a Sangheili."

"But he was still stubborn after you were finished," Jarius pointed out. "Whipping him didn't do the job."

"Do you honestly think I'm stopping it there?"

Zekius and Jarius looked at each other. After it had sunk in, they smiled and laughed a little bit.

"I was hoping not," said Jarius. "That's not the Mataeus I know."

"Exactly. That reminds me of something. There is one task I need the both of you to accomplish before the sun sets. Get a fire ready by the platform, but not on it. It's made of wood, after all. And...bring the iron."

The guards' eyes widened in anticipation. Outside of Sesa's capture, that was the best news they had had in a long while.

Mataeus leaned on the sides of the pool, feeling like a king. Everything was going his way in his eyes.

"Is there anything else I need to know about our base?" he asked.

It was like his words cut at the atmosphere with a knife. The two Brutes stopped applauding, and acted like most of the life was sucked out of them.

"Not that I know of," Zekius stated.

However, Jarius remained silent. He looked at Mataeus like there was nothing on his mind.

"What about you, Jarius? Is there something you want to say?"

He stayed quiet.

"I assure you, Mataeus, that we were in this together," said Zekius. "He knows as much as I do-"

"I asked Jarius here, not you," interrupted Mataeus. "Go on, tell me what you were going to say."

The Chieftain drew himself to Jarius, awaiting an answer. The guard gazed down to the water and stared back at his reflection.

The silence filled the air with more tension than the sexual kind that the pair had earlier. But the more it went on, the more terrified Jarius was.

Zekius would have come in to defend his mate's honor, but the distance between Jarius and Mataeus was almost nonexistent.

"There is nothing to say to you. It was uneventful," Jarius spoke up.

Mataeus bared his teeth for him to see. "You were never a good liar. That's why you were put in charge, you can't hide a secret to save your life."

"I am being truthful to you. There's no telling what happens to those that don't obey you."

"You're right. Let's go on and get that fire ready."

Jarius was very surprised by that. His shoulders relaxed, and he seemed to sigh in relief.

So he climbed out of the pool, water dripping everywhere around. They had been in there so long that Sesa's blood was off of him. Zekius remained in place, not sure what to make of it.

Mataeus proceeded to get out of the pool as well. However, before Jarius could go fetch his straps and boxers, he found himself with Mataeus' hand around his neck. The Chieftain slammed him to the floor with a choke hold, and moved his head right above the water.

"DO NOT LIE TO ME!" he screamed. "Tell me what happened, now!"

"Nothing, that's what!" Jarius shouted. "You're letting your paranoia get the better of you!"

Mataeus hung to Jarius' head and brought it under the water. The guard's arms flailed wildly, but they could not get Mataeus to let go. Bubbles of air popped into the surface right near him.

Zekius climbed out of the pool as fast as he could and tried to push Mataeus off. However, Mataeus remained in place and used his free arm to throw Zekius back into the pool. Zekius splashed water all around while he reached for the surface.

Jarius' head was pulled out of the water, and he gasped for air. He gripped his neck to pry Mataeus' hand off, but it was held with a force beyond his own.

"You want this to be the way you die?" Mataeus roared. "Then tell me what is going on!"

"Over my dead body!" At least he was admitting he was hiding something now.

But Mataeus forced his head under the surface again. He could hear the guard screaming in horror even with the water around him, and more air bubbles came up to pop.

Zekius had the wind knocked out of him, but he staggered back to the ground above the pool. He went after Mataeus, but the Chieftain punched him in the nose, hard enough that it broke. Blood came out of the nostrils and he covered it with his hands.

The Chieftain brought the guard up for air again. Jarius was gasping harder than ever, feeling like death was nipping at his legs.

"One more chance, Jarius! I know for a fact that Zekius wouldn't want to see you die!"

"Good luck with that!"

However, Mataeus did something that surprised both of them. He let go of Jarius, leaving him to regain the air in his lungs. Instead, he came to Zekius and stomped him with his foot right in the chest. Zekius roared from the kick and collapsed to the ground on his knees.

Mataeus ran to the Gravity Hammer on the rack and pulled it off. When he had possession of his weapon again, he ran to Zekius and brought the tip right above the head. He raised it above his head and acted like he was about to crush Zekius' face in.

"Then maybe you wouldn't mind watching your own lover die before your eyes!"

"NO, DON'T!" Jarius screamed. "I'll tell you what I know!"

Zekius was shaking in terror, watching his would be killer still holding the hammer, in a way that terrified him in his position.

Mataeus did not bring it down, but still held it above his head.

"Go on, tell me!"

"There was a man trying to take over the base in your absence!" the guard said. "He was saying you were incompetent if it took you months just to capture one Elite in their own planet! And he tried to convince the base that he should have been chieftain, saying he would have brought a thousand Elites in that same time! Just please, don't kill Zekius!"

"What was his name?" He brought the tip back to Zekius' face, and the younger guard was still shaken as he needed to be.

"Cerasus! Cerasus! That was his name! For the Rings' sake, spare his life and kill me if you have to slaughter somebody!"

Mataeus was pissed off even more than before. Someone was daring to challenge HIS authority? He roared in rage and slammed the hammer into the wall. It was near the racks where Zekius and Jarius' possessions laid, and they fell down from the sheer force he put into the slam.

"I will kill somebody today. Be forever grateful it is not either one of you!"

He walked to his rack and placed every strap he had back on his chest, and put his boxers into place. There was going to be hell to pay.

Zekius was so shaken he could not stand on his feet. Jarius ran to his aid and placed his hands within his lover's. Both of them were in shock over it, and Zekius held onto him for dear life.

Mataeus had all of his equipment on, and his hands gripped the Hammer so hard that he left claw marks in his wake. He stormed out of the house, but not before he turned back to face the guards one last time.

"Before you ask, I will not kill you for this. But I still want that fire."

He clung to his weapon as he ran out of there, fuming with an high intensity even by Jiralhanae standards. The rebel was going to regret everything he did.

The guards on the high platforms watched him as he raced around the prison. They knew something was up, and followed his progress to see the developments.

By the time he was at the barracks, many of the Brutes had gone off elsewhere into different parts of the base. Not many were in their huts at the moment, but every cell in his body wanted to drag Cerasus out of the hole he was in.

He came inside a hut, one he knew would have men inside. They chatted to each other about nothing much, but they stood tall when he was present. He growled and ran into another one.

This hut only had two Brutes, testing their plasma rifles on a target on the ground, consisting of a plate. They were startled to see their Chieftain and ceased their practice.

"Do you know where Cerasus is?" Mataeus barked.

The pair gasped. If Mataeus was like that, and he wanted to see HIM, that could only mean...

"There will be no punishment if you tell me now."

"He's over there!" one said. He pointed at a barrack on the other side.

Mataeus turned to the hut, and he could see the heretic clearly inside his resting place.

Cerasus. Regardless of what the Chieftain was thinking of him now, the warrior was one of the best survivors of the war. The scars all around his body spoke well of his durability, and there were rumors after Tartarus' death that he was considered to take his place by the Prophet of Truth.

He was with many men, as many as could be stuffed inside. He was seated in front of them and looked as if he was giving them some kind of speech.

Mataeus raised his hammer and pointed the lethal end right at his direction. He stomped his foot on the ground and roared, much like an animal would. That brought attention to him, and Cerasus turned around to see what was the meaning of this.

"Cerasus! Come out NOW!"

Cerasus knew what this meant. He got up on his feet and emerged from his barrack with the nastiest smile Mataeus had ever seen. Arrogance was in his eyes, and the Brutes that were inside his hut came out with him, in support.

The other Jiralhanae formed a crowd around this gathering. Something was up, and those that already knew, were shaking in their spots. Those that didn't, they watched on to see if there was going to be some sort of fight. Looked like one was brewing to them.

"You coward! You should have known what would happen if you tried to rebel against my rule!" Mataeus stated. He brought the hammer's handle down on the ground, an intimidating figure.

"So someone spilled their guts about me," said Cerasus, unmoved. "Tell me, which one was it? I might need to kill them after I'm finished with you."

"That does not matter! You went out and tried to take my place in the shadows, and that insurrection will not go unanswered."

"Unanswered? You might be the most incompetent Chieftain I've ever served. We've been here for a year now, away from our home world and our families. And for what? We're still low in number in comparison to the Sangheili.

"Your attempts to gather a new army, one that could stand with the one Tartarus made, are laughable at best. And then you go off, saying you'll capture an Elite in three weeks. It's been three months, and you only came back yesterday.

"Face it. Your attempts at being a great Chieftain are, at best, a slap to the face to everything our Prophets stood for."

The supporters cheered him on. Even some in the crowd joined them in celebration.

If Mataeus was furious before, that was nothing compared to his state after hearing those words. His arms clenched by his sides, and he was ready to tear Cerasus' head off.

The crowd was growing around the barracks. They had known Mataeus well enough to know this was going to get ugly fast.

In response to the "speech", he brought the hammer and stuck the handle into the ground, shaking the ground around it.

"So, you think you would make a better Chieftain than me?" Mataeus whispered, his words dripping in hatred. "Then prove it."

Cerasus turned to his supporters, and said something to them that Mataeus could not make out. Then, he stepped forward with confidence that only enraged the Chieftain further.

"Is this a challenge to a mortal duel, for the title of Chieftain?"

"I would rather be infected with the parasite, than to live long enough for you to oversee my Brutes," Mataeus shot back. "Of course it is."

"Then I accept. What are the terms of the duel?"

"No armor, fight only with your fists. That's how Tartarus won his challenge for the title."

"Indeed. Let's begin."

Nearly everyone in the base was there to watch the proceedings. Whoever could not see well on the ground, raced to the bridges on the trees to gain the best position to watch the fight.

The whole collection of Brutes was buzzing with excitement. It had been ages since someone had been challenged for the role of Chieftain around here, and they could not contain themselves.

As per the rules of the duel, Mataeus started to remove the straps on his chest. He tossed them away towards the hammer, and he made sure his legs didn't carry any armor either. They were clean, and only his boxers remained. It was not necessary to take those off, that didn't count as armor.

Cerasus did the same thing, tossing his straps to his followers. They carried the straps like they were holy relics, something that seemed foreign to everyone else.

Mataeus could not wait for him to be finished. The sooner he was a corpse on the ground, the better.

Soon, they were done with the stripping, only wearing boxers and no armor whatsoever. The hammer laid on the ground away far from them both, and Cerasus foamed at the mouth at the sight of his future weapon. But he had to earn it first.

They approached each other, setting up the stage for the duel. Both were ready to tear the flesh off his opponent's bones.

"The Great Journey awaits us all. Even the lowly ones," Cerasus laughed.

"And the ones that lick the Grunts' boots," Mataeus responded.

The crowd came as close as they could to the spot. This was going to be one to remember...or one to look away from.

Before Mataeus was ready yet, Cerasus ran straight at him, baring his teeth and aiming his claws right for his face. In the thick of the moment, the Chieftain managed to dodge his first attack, exposing him for a counter attack.

He used it to crash his elbow in the middle of Cerasus' back. Cerasus cried out in pain, falling to the ground. This was an opening Mataeus intended to exploit, and he came closer to his foe.

However, he stepped back when he felt something dig into his breast. Almost as soon as he came down, Cerasus turned around and brought his hand into Mataeus' chest, bringing his claw into the skin. It left a few cuts in its wake and brought out blood.

Mataeus clutched at the spot, surprised that the rebel could put up a fight at all. Cerasus rolled away and brought himself back to standing.

The supporters rang out another cheer with the first real strike against the Chieftain.

Meanwhile, he still clutched at his chest, staggering from the shock of it. Cerasus saw that, and rushed at him again. He punched Mataeus right around the claw marks, drawing more blood from the gashes. The crowd gave out a shout with every new hit, and Cerasus used the window to land five whole blows on him.

However, that did not faze Mataeus at all. He stood his ground and ignored the sting of those few swipes. This duel was not going to end that way.

He reached out and grabbed Cerasus by the shoulders to his surprise. Cerasus did not know what to do in that split second, as Mataeus' grasp was stronger than he thought. Mataeus brought his head up, and headbutted Cerasus right in the forehead.

Cerasus shrieked in agony, and collapsed on his back. That took the daylights out of him, but he managed to crawl away and get back up.

"You're much weaker than I thought," Mataeus taunted. "The Elites have softened you!"

"This fight has only begun!" Cerasus responded, trying to make up for the shameful start. "Soon, you will be as easy to squash as a-"

"Enough talk. That will get you only closer to the Great Journey."

They stood against each other, like they did at the start of the duel. What was going around them did not matter, even as the Brutes started to cheer for Mataeus again. And Cerasus' followers started to back away, considering exile to escape what would surely end in execution.

Not long after, Mataeus and Cerasus charged at the other and grappled around the shoulders. It turned into a test of strength, as they were locked in place and pushed against each other.

They struggled for minutes, turning up the tension as their strength would surely give out. However, Cerasus could feel himself straining more than Mataeus was, and lowered his shoulders accordingly.

He knew he would lose if he didn't do something fast. So he did the only thing he could figure, and landed a punch on the stomach.

That would not stop Mataeus. It felt like a Flood had clawed him there, but he would not quit just yet. He pushed harder on Cerasus, who went even lower down on him.

Another few punches on the stomach did not do much better. However, one punch in particular did its intended effect. Mataeus stumbled from the building damages of those blows, and fell onto his back.

He could not feel much in the affected area, until Cerasus came by and stomped his chest violently with a foot. Mataeus screamed from the sensation it left, much to Cerasus' delight.

Cerasus came down to kick it again, with the same results. Mataeus clutched at his stomach and cursed his foe out. Cerasus started to feel momentum coming his way, and prepared for a third stomp.

Yet this time would be different. He panicked when Mataeus grabbed the leg to stop the assault. Cerasus tried to hop away out of his grasp, but Mataeus did not let go.

Rather, he grabbed it and twisted its skin around. Something cracked within, and Cerasus roared from the injury. He backed off and clutched at the broken bone.

Mataeus heaved from the stomach stomping, but he rocovered enough to stand from the time allotted. Cerasus was still clutching at the broken leg, and this was Mataeus' chance.

He stumbled over, dragging his right foot, and punched Cerasus right in the leg. Cerasus could not bear for it to be damaged any further, or else the pain would become unbearable.

He pulled off the one thing he could have managed in his position, and sprinted as much as he could to Mataeus. While still in a broken state, he grabbed Mataeus' hand and bit it with all the force he could muster, drawing blood again.

Mataeus yelped from the bite, but it left him with the opportunity of a lifetime. While Cerasus did land a blow on him, he exposed his head to more damage.

What else was there to do? He had this, like he knew he would.

He smashed his fist into Cerasus' brain, and the rebel let go of the hand to scream again. He was going to crash any moment, and Mataeus hit him in the head again.

That took the strength out of Cerasus, and he fell to the ground. Unlike last time, he could not get back up, as he only had one good leg to use.

And Mataeus knew it. He ran over to the body and climbed on top of Cerasus' chest. That's when he landed blow upon blow directly to his head.

Cuts formed around the challenger's face, and blood oozed out of them. But the Chieftain would not cease his assault. He kept punching the life out of him, making it obvious who won this fight.

And then, Cerasus' head laid to the side with his eyes closed. Mataeus stopped when he saw that, and placed a hand on his neck. There was no heartbeat to him anymore. He had gone on to the Great Journey.

With his title defended, Mataeus got off of him and gazed upon the crowd. They were speechless, and Cerasus' supporters were shaking in terror out of fear for their future.

That was not on his mind. He went and pulled the Gravity Hammer out of its spot, and brought it back to his possession. He stood over Cerasus' body and roared his own battle cry.

"Let this be a lesson to all of you, who would dare challenge me to glory!" he shouted. "Things might not be going as fast as I had planned, but that does not allow for your loyalty to diminish either. And if you wish to know what will happen if you do, just look at his body. Let him be a reminder for all of you!"

He brought his hammer back into the air, and nobody in the base dared to speak after his speech. They merely stood there instead, and that said everything Mataeus wanted to hear.

Then, he noted that he was drenched in sweat and blood again. By the Rings, he would have to go back to the bathing house in this state.

But he still had an Elite to take care of, all in due time. But he earned all the respect he deserved...for now.


	5. Chapter 5: Crumbling

By the late afternoon to early evening hours, the prison was the same as it has been all day. The windows still gave it enough light, there were still no guards that bothered to keep watch in the facility, and there was still only one prisoner contained within those lifeless walls.

But for Sesa, it was a completely different experience. His blood was the latest stain in the cell, coating the floor in purple. The slashes in his back healed to a degree, but they were sore all the same and starting to scar his backside. It was a mess, as the skin in that area was utterly destroyed and replaced with dark marks, courtesy of Mataeus.

His condition had improved while the day marched on. No longer did he feel like he was dying, but he was still in a tortured state. It would take a long time before he was fully recovered, if that was even possible.

He regained his bearings and he could sit on his ass again, but the blood loss left him dizzy. It proved difficult to keep alert of his surroundings, and he could barely make out the area in front of him past the force field.

Yet, there was a will in him that wasn't diminished. He did not look forward to the next part of his torture, but there was a part of him that desired to prove he could stand with Mataeus' plans again.

It didn't help that he was starving, however. He hadn't eaten or had a drop since he was banished to Quirm, and that was a couple of days ago. The whipping made his stomach lose its contents, and it rumbled every few minutes.

He breathed in and out, and but he found himself disgusted when he picked up the scent of his own blood. The Sangheili had a thing about spilled blood, and he had no choice but to face it. It made him gag, and he pushed his legs to a corner of the cell, just to get away from it in that tight space.

Why was he being like this all of a sudden? The punishment he received was grueling and his back would forever be scarred, yet it aggravated him that he was acting this pathetic. If he was like this now, what would he be like at the end of the day, after another round of painful torture?

This would not do. He steeled his nerves in preparation, crossing his legs and putting his hands by the sides again. It helped him before, now would be a good time for it to work twice in a day.

And then, he picked up a familiar sound from the outside. One he was growing to loathe more every time he heard it. The sound of chatter resurfacing. What else could it mean to him? It was getting late, and Mataeus made it obvious something was going down tonight. Made too much sense to mean anything else.

He moved his legs back to a standing position, but they staggered while he did so. They were sapped of life and could barely support his weight.

Nonsense. He would walk to the platform again, no matter what. Rather than leaning against the wall, he forced himself to stand on his two feet. He felt dizzier, but he found the will to stay in place.

The door opened, and the two guards returned to the prison. The stains from before were washed away and cleaned from their fur, but that was not the only change Sesa noticed.

As they approached him, they were much more unsure of themselves. The younger looking one had his arms vibrating, almost shaking from something the Elite could not gather. The older one was physically close to him, and they stopped in the middle of progress.

"Why didn't he kill us?" said the younger one, Zekius. "You know how he's like when he's pressed for leadership changes."

"Please, for the sake of the Rings, let it go," Jarius answered. "We have a job to do now. He let us live even with our sins. That's all you need to know."

"I understand, but...we could always leave."

"And what? Have him try to kill us again?"

"Sounds like I got the better end of the stick," Sesa responded. He was standing on the edge of the field, amused. "How about we trade spaces? At least you're not paranoid about death in my position, you're just worried if he's going to take a body part when he gets another turn with you."

That silenced both of them, and they turned to Sesa. The cloud of darkness over their eyes had suddenly faded away, replaced with a grin.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Jarius asked. "And I know what's going to happen tonight. Trust me, I have the better position."

He brought the same portable switch to light, and pressed the button. The field vanished and left the cell open again.

However, the guards did not give him permission to walk again. They went and grabbed his arms instead, and went escorting him out of his cell. The speed they moved was so quick, Sesa's legs almost dragged behind the rest of his body.

His feet managed to get back more strength and kept up with the pace they established.

By then, it was in the early evening hours. The moon was already coating the base in a dim blue glow and the stars emerged from hiding. But there was something else giving out a light into that place. Many torches were placed into the soil, and their tips were lit with fire.

And that's when Sesa came out of hiding to the audience of Brutes. But the changes in their spirit was even more different than before.

The spirit of rampant violence was still there, with many men cheering and insulting him like they did that morning. The ones that didn't-and they were high in number-were eerily silent. They watched like zombies at the events of the night, unable to emote any emotion other than fear.

Something had happened while Sesa was mending his wounds. He didn't have a clue what, but whatever it was, it had taken the energy right out of the men. Something that made things easier for him to tolerate.

As before, a bunch of guards outlined his path to the platform above. But something felt different whenever he saw Mataeus standing there, looking as proud as ever.

Mataeus looked like he had been through hell. His stomach had large bruises in the middle. He had his own scars on his chest, in the form of three claw marks. In general, it looked like someone had some fun beating him up.

Sesa was not uncultured about Jiralhanae culture. He despised that race like a true Sangheili, but he knew some things about them through years of experience in the army. If a Brute wanted to challenge a Chieftain for his title, he would have to win a fight to the death to earn it. And it seemed like there was a fistfight.

And then he turned to the side to look past the crowd, and his theory was supported right there. Someone had constructed a pole and put it in the middle of the barracks, and from there hung the body of a Brute, with his head drenched in his own blood. The body of Cerasus, displayed as an example for all the others to avoid.

That explained a lot.

With that new knowledge, Sesa walked up the steps and arrived on the platform for the second time today. Mataeus was waiting for him, with his arrogant demeanor as strong as ever.

"I see you had some fun without me," Sesa commented.

"So you've seen the body of my former foe," Mataeus responded. "Quite a shame, he was a worthwhile ally but a pitiful enemy. But why should you miss all the excitement? We do have more plans for you, so let's not waste any more time."

He pointed to the same place he had whipped Sesa, but there were some significant alterations to it. Rather than having two poles, there was only one, the other being used to showcase Cerasus' body. The sole one in position had two cuffs attached to the top, big enough for Sesa's wrists.

Mataeus motioned for Sesa to come to the pole, which he obeyed. The Elite seemed confused by the intentions behind this.

"If you were just going to whip me again, why lose the second pole?"

"You fool! This is how you're going in."

He forced Sesa to turn around, and brought the two guards to come with him. They grabbed the Elite's arms and forced them upward, bringing his wrists inside the cuffs. They clicked a button on the device, and the restraints circled around his arms to hold them in place. It left his frontal areas completely exposed and restricting his movements even more than the previous one.

His back dug into the pole as he accustomed himself into his new spot, drawing out pain in his scars again. They weren't as sore, but they were still sensitive to such contact. He cursed in his native tongue, not eager for the next portion to begin.

This was even less appealing than the ropes. At least he knew his back would get the end of Mataeus' wrath, and it was tough enough to take it. His stomach, chest, and everything else was much more easier to wound, and anything they received would be terrible.

The crowd was picking back up in intensity, and chanted something Sesa could not make out. Maybe it was so bad that they felt the need to say it in their language. He turned to the Chieftain, only to catch him moving down the other series of steps.

Why was Mataeus leaving him like this? What was the point of it, when he was the one who wanted Sesa to break by his own hands?

And then, at the ground below, by the platform, he saw it. It didn't take more than a second for him to realize where this was going. His arms shook in place as he dreaded his immediate future. It was going to make his whipping look like a slap on the wrist in comparison.

Mataeus had placed a bed of coals into a pit, dug into the earth itself. They were burning hot, releasing their heat into the air. It was enormous, bigger than most fireplaces, but there was one thing that stood out in that area, and that was a metal stick. It had one end submerged within the fire, and the other was out for someone to grab.

When the Chieftain pulled it out, Sesa discovered that it was a branding iron. The iron was white hot after being in the coals for so long, but he could make out the design of the mark. It was the symbol of the Covenant, the same one that he had fought under for a large chunk of his life.

"You, who would betray the Covenant!" Mataeus shouted. "After tonight, all you will see on your body is the symbol of the ones that truly own you. You made a pact to the Covenant long ago, and you broke that promise. And I will punish you in the way we've always punished traitors in this time."

The crowd was on the edge of its seat as he went back up the steps, iron in his hand. He was in his element as he waved it around in the air, almost like he was in charge of a ritual.

As much as Sesa wanted to be strong, he was terrified deep within of the branding. There was a reason why even the Arbiter screamed when he was branded. It HURT. It was one of the worst torture methods that allowed one to survive, and the receiver would always be in horrible shape.

And he knew it. This was designed to echo that day in High Charity. But at the same time, could he do anything about it?

Yes, he could. Take it like a warrior. Do not beg for Mataeus to drop the iron and release him. Ask him to make it hotter. Do anything but show that he's breaking you.

He took a series of deep breaths, as Mataeus came closer with it.

_Never stop. Never surrender._

He forced himself to remember those words. Mataeus was only five feet away from him now.

Better to die in battle than to live in a cage.

The crowd was delighted by all of this, and begged their Chieftain to start it now. But he waited for a few seconds, letting the tension build to the point where it had to be released.

"Let this night show you how easy it is to break an Elite!"

"You will not break me with just one push of that iron!" Sesa said. "It did not break the Arbiter, and it will not finish me off."

"We will see about that."

Then, Mataeus raised the branding iron. Sesa did not shy away from it by one inch. The crowd was roaring for him to burn the Elite.

The Brute pointed the iron at Sesa's right breast, and brought it hard into his skin.

The iron seared deep into Sesa, and he forced his body to stay calm. But the iron burned away the skin it touched, and he could hear it dying from the heat. Then he felt the nerves burning into dust.

The pain shot his eyes as wide open as they could be, and he screamed from the iron. His scream went through the entire base, and his mandibles opened all the way to make way for his voice.

The experience of the iron on his chest was unbearable. He could not make out anything that was going on around him, other than the Brute and the iron, searing the mark onto his chest.

His body was quaking from the sheer agony he was feeling, but Mataeus was ruthless with it. He kept the iron on there for half a minute, making sure the scar was especially deep. Sesa was screaming throughout every second, and it felt like an eternity.

Mataeus finally forced it off after some time. It brought a little bit of skin with it, and Sesa dropped his head down to his chest.

The spot was emitting SMOKE from the scar, imprinting the symbol of the Covenant forever into his soul. The life from him had left for good, and he was barely alive.

His senses completely dulled after that. There was a crowd applauding the work, but he could not hear them. All that was happening was pain, and he was already dead in his eyes.

And then, he screamed again.

The bastard had put the iron back on him, but on his left breast this time. The pain exceeded itself in magnitude, as the first mark hadn't even cooled off yet. Sesa roared from the utter insanity of it all, and every bone in him wanted to escape it in any way he could.

His arms were shaking so violently that the wrists cut into the cuffs, causing more injury.

Mataeus was having the time of his life, and let the iron stay for a few more seconds on the victim. Sesa's head was pointed at the sky, as he was lacking the air to scream again.

He couldn't even make out his torturer, as his vision was gone. He felt the release of the iron, and he collapsed as much as he was allowed to.

For once, he could not bare to continue. One branding was enough, but TWO? How could anyone find it in themselves to do something that cruel?

But it was succeeding in scarring him. Both his breasts had the same logo on them, searing into the skin for the rest of his life.

And worse of all...he was starting to like the idea of begging for it to stop. And for someone like him, that was the worst of all.

It wasn't even close to being enough to slake Mataeus' thirst for this.

That much was clear when Sesa felt the iron planted right on his abs.

All the muscle that was burned, all the skin that was gone, it all added to the misery of being branded.

It was like his whole body was tossed into a lava pit, but it did not kill him. That much Mataeus would not allow. Instead, he experienced it as his abs were marked along with all of his chest.

Then again, he screamed as much as his lungs could. It was music to Mataeus' ears, but Sesa didn't even know it was happening. How was it possible, when he was being treated to something even the Arbiter would cringe at?

And worst of all, it was being done for an entire minute. This one was the worst of all, and it even disfigured parts of his abs in the process.

After it was over, Mataeus examined the iron up close. It was coated in Sesa's skin, and it had lost its heat.

"Zekius! Reheat this twice as hot as I made it. I want to save the best for last."

"No! For the Arbiter's sake, no!" Sesa begged. "I cannot stand to be tortured like this anymore! Death would be better than this hell!"

Mataeus didn't respond at first. And then he went closer to Sesa, face to face.

"That's what you deserve! Your people have committed atrocities that make this look like child's play. It's only right that this gets even worse for you. And now, you will get the mark that you cannot hide. Your armor can hide your back, it can even hide the marks on your chest. But this one, not even the best armor can hide it."

Zekius grabbed the iron from Mataeus and stepped down the platform. He brought the iron deep into the cracks of the coals, bringing it to the hottest part of the pit.

The iron glowed twice as hot when he pulled it out. It brought much energy and heat when he was back on the platform, and Sesa could hear something from Mataeus about Zekius, and how he thanked the youth for his hard work.

But where was the final mark going to go? His chest and abs were already marked. It was unlikely his arms would be affected, and branding his legs would be silly.

No, the ultimate answer wound up being far worse than any of those combined.

Mataeus pulled Sesa's head down as much as the neck could move. Sesa had no energy to resist, but his mind was tearing itself in fear.

And his worst fears were realized, as Mataeus brought the iron on the top of Sesa's head.

Everything he had experienced to that point, from the whipping to the stripping to the three prior brandings, could not hold a candle to the anguish he experienced when his head was set on fire.

He screamed so loud, it curdled the blood of everyone that heard it except for Mataeus. His brain was almost affected by it, and the fact that the iron even came close was enough for him to plead his ancestors for the release of death.

The life was gone from his bones. He couldn't resist any more torture for much longer. But Mataeus didn't care.

Mataeus left the iron on his head for three whole minutes, leaving the deepest scar he had ever delivered upon Sesa.

When it was over, the Sangheili was completely limp. His head sunk to his chest, both searing with the symbol of the Covenant. Some in the crowd even debated if he was dead.

Mataeus would loathe himself if that killed the prisoner, and he pressed a hand onto Sesa's neck. There was a faint heartbeat in him still, though its slow pace suggested he did come close to killing the Elite. Thank the Rings he did not. The dog was merely out cold.

Mataeus tossed the iron away and marched forward to the crowd, silent from the spectacle.

"That was barbaric and senseless even for me, I acknowledge it," he started. "But he is still alive. There will be more for you to see, I promise. And he will make it as the symbol you need."

After he was finished with his speech, Sesa came to life again. He would never figure out how he survived, but he did.

And when he lifted his head up again, he could not hear a sound. But he saw the crowd cheering and all around happy with themselves, which said everything he needed to hear.

Mataeus turned around, and noted that Sesa was awake again. He brought his face very close to Sesa's, and had a look of glee that was burned into the Elite's memory forever.

"Are you finished, dog?" asked Mataeus.

Sesa spit in his face, showing defiance even now at the lowest point of his life.

Mataeus wiped the spit off his skin and didn't change his expression at all. He backed away and grabbed the pole above Sesa's bounds. With a force that could move boulders, he managed to turn it around.

Sesa's legs dragged across the platform, as he was forced against his will to face the crowd that had so longingly insulted him.

"Do you mind if we watch you while we eat, then?" Mataeus inquired. "It's just that you've visually become the symbol I needed. We can look at you and see everything we need to keep our spirits up. That would make for a nice show during dinner, seeing how low you can go before you give up."

"Then keep dreaming," Sesa whispered.

Truth be told, his will to keep fighting wasn't even half what it was at the start of the day. Everything that had happened today made it one of the worst days of his lifetime. Even that time where he was only a few inches from being infected from the Flood on Earth couldn't compare to this.

And to make thing worse, everyone would now be watching him while they were eating. And he needed to eat.

Mataeus came up and traced the outlines of Sesa's scars with his finger. "It's quite a shame, you are pretty strong for an Elite. Maybe even half as good looking as me. No wonder you were in such high ranking. Must feel like a long fall from grace in your current state."

The feeling of his fingers on Sesa made his skin crawl. Wasn't there enough torture for one day?

But as soon as Mataeus was rubbing his claws on Sesa's scars, he left the platform to meet his men below, leaving Sesa clinging to the pole for life support. And he was out for all the Jiralhanae to see.

Just like Cerasus on the other side of the barracks.

At least he was allowed to feel the release of death.

Sesa didn't even have that to work with.


End file.
